Again
by smolder
Summary: "A pulse goes through her, the magic building to a crescendo (music and colors and words all blend together and still mange to escape her in this single moment that is nothing like she has ever experinced, nothing but magic but somehow more than what she has ever known that word to mean since becoming a witch), and Hermione felt her back arch up off the blanket."
1. Sensory Deprivation

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling.

Warnings/Spoilers: Post-War Harry Potter AU

A/N: This is a Wishlist fic that came from a prompt provided by jaq_of_spades. The poor prompt provided was quite respectable but it was eaten by my brain and got regurgitated into this craziness.

A/N 2: Reviews are Good. This has been a subtle hint from the author - Please return to your regularly scheduled reading.

* * *

After Fred's burial the Weasley's pulled in tight and both Harry and her understood that Ron needed to stay home at the Burrow. It was harder for him then them really - he still felt such guilt from abandoning them in the woods previously. But this wasn't anything like before, this was mourning - pure, sharp and strong but never simple. This was something that his family needed him despretly for.

It left the two of them alone again though - both now orphaned in a way (and Hermione still can't allow herself to look to closely at that loss she willing sacrificed by her own hand, her own spell. Still isn't ready to let go), they needed no words to know they would stick together as they always had in the past.

So, she was there in the middle of the night, lying in bed at Grimmauld Place, staring at the ceiling in the dark and thinking of nothing - think of breathing perhaps - thinking maybe this was it, the War was over. Maybe now they could all start to finally relax.

And she had just let her eyes start to drift shut when the screaming started.

Harry's dreams are terrifying in their clarity (especially since what he is describing is such a...a _lack,_ an absense) - she sometimes wonders if with all of the mental manipulation he has undergone over the years (since he was a baby, reallly) if he has ever even had normal dreams - and it makes her stomach churn just to hear him talk about them.

But this time they aren't of Voldermort, that link is dead - that man, that _creature_, is dead.

Sirius, it seems, is not.

Harry describes to her this darkness, this utter weightlessness. Trying to scream, trying to run and always a_lways _trying to reach towards back home. And the belief, the single minded belief (the only thing keeping him from giving up and just letting himself drift through nothingness) that he was slowly reaching back the way he had come.

They alert the others of the Order (the others that are still alive) of Harry's dream and Hermione is honestly shocked by the way they are brushed off. It infuriates her, like little else has the power to do, this lack of trust in her best friend even after he has fought, after he has _died_ for them - they couldn't even take his word.

But, to everyone else, Sirius is dead. (Has been dead for a while.) That is final - like all of the other deaths they are busy mourning. It is easy for them to push this off as stress or simple nightmares.

_(And a small part of her understands. She too can see how Harry looks when he talks about these things - wide eyed, hands gesteculating randomly, whole body shaking, and breathing hard. To put it plainly, he doesn't look sane_.)

Hermione, believes him though. She has seen the things magic can do since becoming a part of this world and has learned that most witches and wizards have no true idea of it's limits no matter what they actually think. She is far past Sirius being alive being a possibility in her mind. Harry has dreamed it, e_xperieced it,_ and she trust that. Trust him. And, while it might not have been once; now - that is enough.

But she has no idea where to start looking for answers on this, honestly. There is no expert that she knows of - no place to begin researching. The Veil is part of the Department of Mysteries and everything about it has been carefully classified.

Surprisingly, Harry does know someone - a single name and the first flickers of a smile that she's seen in the days since this began.

It only takes a single Owl for Luna to arrive by lunch with a knapsack over her shoulder that rustles and shifts alarmingly but ends up simply being full of old leather bound books and scrolls.

And they research. A mixture of what seems like reliable resources and crack pot theories that go back thousands of years with only well maintained presevation charms to keep them from disintegraging (these are the heirlooms that come down to Luna from her father's side). Food and tea are made while translation spells filter through Latin, old Germanic, Sanskrit and some languages that aren't human in orgin.

It is surprising to her to find Luna is_ good_ at this. With a topic at hand she becomes fiercely engaged. Hermione was always aware of the fact that she was in Ravenclaw but the way she usually carried herself made it hard to look closer at that.

And she can't help but be fond of the girl just for how she handles Harry. Her best friend is barely sleeping - has become jittery, depressed, and single minded (as he has a tendency to do). Luna some how manages to coax him to lie down on the couch between the two of them as they scour through pages of books. His eyes will blink heavily as he tries to protest but it doesn't take long before Harry goes limp. The calm never last long - evey time, _every time _, he will startle awake calling for Sirius (and that only pushes her harder, Harry deserves peace. He needs it - he can't keep this up forever.) But she is grateful for even the short moments.

It is surprising when the moment comes. The book is a translation (of a translation, of a translation) that was originally in an old language of the Veelas. She is eating toast away from the pages and glancing at it out of the corner of her eyes. She sees the passage and drops her toast which attracts Luna's attention to scoot over, pick up her food, set it on the coffee table, and then begin to read over her shoulder. (Harry is in the kitchen making the rest of their breakfast.)

It is almost starkly explained (which is to be expected the Veela are a warrior race at heart).

The only way to call those physically lost beyond the Veil was with a direct blood relation and a cermony using a type of wandless magic similar to that one would use to call you wand to your hand - but much stronger and more directed perhaps. Different types of wandless magic were more common to those with Veela blood (the fire balls not being the only type of magic they used to be able to summon) and the book had had quite a bit of interesting detail on other spells of the like.

Hope builds momentairily before it crashes because if their was ever a question in her mind that she might be able to convince Andromeda (or maybe despreately even Narcissa perhaps) to help that was banished by a small chart bellow the description that showed just how close the blood relative must be - clearly mapping out only parent and child or brother and sister bonds with beautiful swirling lines.

It was devestating to come so far and hit a wall. Hermione curled her hands into fist and closed her eyes tight biting back tears of pure frustraion. But a touch on her arm distracted her and when she opened her eyes again it was to look straight in to the unblinking gaze of her unconventional research partner.

"There is a way," Luna said solemely.


	2. Fertile

Fertility had been the late Mrs. Lovegood's field and her daughter and made it a mission of hers to know her mother's work. And where the magical world was bounds ahead of the Muggle, the departed Lovegood was bounds ahead of the magical.

A single hair - that was all Luna had needed - a single dark hair off the brush from rooms no one had ever had the heart to clean. (And a quick spell to double check who the hair belonged to - Hermione had made that mistake before and wasn't about to again. Especially not with something this imporatnt.)

She made the decision that they wouldn't tell Harry until after it was done. Hermione knew he would do anything to get his Godfater back but he would probably argue against _her_ doing this (it was sweet, in a way, but this was her decision and she was going to make it). All she showed him was the answer she had found in the Veela book and said that Luna and her were finding a way to get around the blood connection needed.

Which wasn't exactly a lie...they were doing that in a way.

The preperation prior to the casting consisted of two potions carefully brewed that needed almost the entirety of a month - one absorbing the light of the moon through it's cycle and the other the sun's rays. On the night of the full moon Luna knocked on her door in the middle of the night and before she could ask any questions simply grabbed her hand and led her downstairs and into the back gardens. There she had already brought the cauldrons and had laid out an old floral blanket and her favorite mug (the one with the Muggle depictions of dragons on it) that they had cleaned just hours ago after dinner in the kitchen, like a bizzare moonlit picknick.

Hemione was distracted from her observations by Luna asking her simply, "Are you sure?"

She didn't try to talk her out of it, didn't try to lecture on the reasons why this was a horrible idea, how permenant this was for everyone, how many lives this would effect. She simply asked Hermione the one question. And that is why she didn't automatically snap at her and instead took a deep breath and thought it through one last time. She was then utterly at peace with her decision when she said, "Yes."

Luna smiled and nodded, releasing her hand to kneel on the ground, grab the mug and fill it up from the first cauldron. She handed it to Hermione.

"Drink," she said simply. And Hermione did.

It tasted dark and smokey. She never thought she would think anything would taste like darkness - like night, but this did. She finished off the mug and it had the aftertaste in her mouth of stars. Eyes wide she handed back the mug to Luna.

Re-filling it the othe woman said in the same tone she said everything, "You'll need to take your clothes off for this, Hermione."

Her whole body freezing, she just stared for a moment. During her pause Luna had set the drink down on the ground and began to strip as well. Swallowing hard, Hermione made the decision in her mind to gather up her Gryfindor courage and go with this - it was necessary and she trusted Luna; it would all be alright. Slowly she pulled off her clothes dropping them in a pile beside the blanket. When she was done, Luna was staring at her calmly, all silvery pale skin glowing under her namesake, and handed her the full mug once again.

With the second cup, Hermione could feel her mind drifting - and something was building, something big. But she had agreed to this, was all in now, so the next time it was empty she went ahead and walked over dipping her familiar chipped dragon mug in the cauldron again and brought it to her lips. And she drank watching raptly as Luna's arms disapeared elbow deep in the second cauldron. Coming out dripping with rippling gold that seemed to quickly absorb into her skin.

_S__he drank of the night as the Lady of the Moon dipped her hands in sunlight again and this time reached out and touched her with the borrowed warmth._

She tilted her head back finishing off the potion that now seemed dear to her. Luna followed the line of her throat with her slick fingers, spreading golden potion as she went, ending with taking the mug away from her lips. Kneeling again, she set the mug beside her and looking up at Hermione with eyes that had never looked more like opals (s_o silvery white and reflecting every color to her dazed gaze)_ she offered her a glittering hand. And Hermione took it, going to her knees and joining her on the blanket. Luna dipped her hands in the second cauldron again hands coming out bright and metallic once more. She placed them on Hermione's shoulders and urged her on her back; she went without resistance. Luna settled herself over top of her, a weight keeping her grounded in this moment sitting astride her stomach, and their eyes met - and helplessly they both smiled at one another easy and free for just a second in the middle of this.

Still smiling Luna placed one gentle hand on her forhead and began to slowly move it downward. She closed her eyes as she felt the potion dripping all over her face towards her eyelids, instantly absorbing into her skin. Reaching her shoulders the other hand joined spreading the golden warmth everywhere. Luna shifted her body as her reach became impared and Hermione just laid their and breathed deep feeling the warmth build, feeling the magic build, as her whole body was covered. After both legs got the same treatment she heard Luna rise and opened her eyes in time to see the other woman, pick up the cauldron and simply pour whatever remained over her head. It seemed to take a long time for the small amount left to drip down and be absorbed by her skin and hair (_Moon Woman shifting seamlessly to Sun_). But only when it had did Luna again kneel down over her, this time she kept eye contact but their were no little smiles - they could both feel the tension in the air, the magic built up ready for release.

With ancient knowledge in her gaze (eyes so different, so old, but still somehow - somehow still _h__er_) Luna placed her hands firmly on her hips and she felt...she felt the magic _give_. She felt it all coalese and go into _her_.

_It felt like fire. _(She thought of Fawkes burning bright and becoming new.)

_ It felt like death._ (She thought of Remus. She thought of Tonks. She thought of George. She thought of Severus. She thought of so many bodies across the Hogwarts grounds.)

_It felt like rebirth._ (She thought of Harry.)

She threw her head back and gasped, her eyes wide and unseeing.

_It felt like life. _(She thought about Sirius. She thought about the child she was now creating.)

She clawed at the blanket and Luna stopped the frentic movement twining their fingers together, slick with potion, and placed them over her stomach instead. A pulse went through her, the magic building to a crescendo (_music and colors and words all blended together yet still managed to escaped her in this single moment that is nothing like she has ever experinced, nothing but magic but somehow more than what she has ever known that word to mean since becoming a witch_), and Hermione felt her entire back arch up off the blanket.

_It felt like what she used to think magic was._

Then it is done.

And she is now pregnant.


	3. Reliant

It is waiting after that, weeks that turn into months of waiting for Luna to deem her growing baby to have a strong enough aura to be distinct as it's own and not be dwarfed by her own magical signature. The time starts as preparation but it somehow morphs into an odd calm - and Hermione thinks the waiting should be excruciating, keeps expecting it to be but it isn't. It's healing for all of them.

As expected Harry is angry when she tells him. But it is largely based on fear and worry for her and therefore hard for him to maintain for long in the face of Luna and her own twin calm surety. He instead makes it up to her in his own way - reading books about pregnancy and decorating one of the rooms as a nursery, buying more things than she thought had been possible for a single baby. (She has always had a vague sense that Harry wanted children, wanted family. But his eagerness makes something inside of her crack, makes her clutch both Luna and him tight and just cry. She'll later blame hormones.)

There is also the unexpected development that Harry is able to sleep, still dream but still a full actual eight to ten hours a night of sleep, if he kept contact with her stomach. Harry of course is uncomfortable with this, unwilling to, as he feels, take more from her - not understanding that he is her best friend and she would do anything to help him. Luna (Merlin, she feels so reliant on the other woman these days) is somehow able to solve their problems with this by having all three of them sleep in the same bed making it feel less intimate (much easier for both Harry and her to accept) and more like a sleepover - whispering in the dark until they are all asleep.

And every morning as her stomach grows and she wakes up warm with two bodies curled around her it becomes easier to imagine this being her life. Because even if it worked, there was no guarantee that everyone would understand this decision she made and the odd precious child that was the result. But there was_ no doubt _in her mind that Harry and Luna always would, and the future Hermione saw clearer every day of the four of them living in Grimmauld Place was far from a bad one.


	4. Pull

She is six months pregnant when they embark on the next phase of their mission.

They are breaking into the Department of Mysteries again but the differences so far outweigh the similarities to her Fifth Year that it is hard to believe that it even happened on this same exact date three years prior. She doesn't even feel the least bit nervous this time, perhaps she should but so much has been leading up to this that when follows Luna as the other woman serenely leads the way as if by feel (and by now Hermione has little doubt that is true - that Luna is sensing the Veil the same way she is able to sense the child within her belly and is leading them inexorably towards it) and Harry stays behind them (keeping an eye out, as alert and strong as she has ever known him to be) she just can't feel any fear.

They pass through room after room and before she knows it they are in front of the Veil. Hermione breathes deep as both Luna and Harry stare for a long moment transfixed by something she can't hear. Gently she places her hand on both of their shoulders and they look at her (Harry startled and Luna just blinking a few times) but then they get to work setting up the few materials needed for the casting - the candles and the circle of crushed moonstone.

After that it is her turn. All her.

She stands in front of the Veil and closes her eyes.

It was magic woven deep and strong - old, so old that much of it nearly pre-dated writing. Pre-dated wands and spoken spells.

It consisted mainly of direct blood connection and of will. With that she just - she just needed to _call him back. _Show him the rest of the way through the Veil to this world using the link of her child - _their child_ - as the focus.

Simple in theory. Yes - but it was terribly terribly difficult in practice. And Hermione could feel sweat beading on her brow and the way her legs started to shake. But that was part of the stipulations - staying upright, focused, steady. Just as she was wavering (both her body and her tenuous connection) suddenly she felt a body behind her (so very familiar from nights spooned close).

"Shhh" said Luna in her ear winding arms around her and resting her hand lightly on her belly. She instantly felt familiar magic begin to intermingle, strengthen the spell. "Relax, Hermione. I've got you. Just, concentrate on the pull."

With a sigh Hermione gratefully let her body fall back into the other woman's - she had complete trust in Luna, perhaps more than anyone besides Harry - who she knew Harry was hyper alert protecting them from anyone who might disrupt the circle - and gave herself fully over to the magic.

The change was instantaneous. As soon as her worries over her physical self stopped distracting her the spell snapped into focus, colors and light bending sharp and raw. She saw what seemed to be a rope coalesce in front of her with steady hands she reached out and grabbed it.

She _pulled._

Hermione landed hard, falling back on top of Luna as resistance gave way. When they had untangled themselves she noticed that the magic was no longer pounding in her ears...

...and Sirius Black was also on the floor across the room, blinking dazedly over at the two of them with an arm wrapped around an overjoyed Harry.


End file.
